Growth

Wow, I can’t believe open diary is back and kickin’.

It’s weird, but I’m glad it’s back. It’s given me time to read all of my old entries (which were equally cringey and funny) and reflect on how much I’ve grown as a writer.

After open diary shut down, I moved to blogger, and the first entry I ever wrote went like this:

This is my first entry….yay! I’m honestly kind of fuzzy on the whole blogging thing so…umm suck up this for now. It will get better….maybe.

Well….Nothing much to say. I mean I AM on summer break. Not much happens…so much for “Daily Drama” haha……

Ok…so judging from the color you probably already figured out pink and black are like my favorite colors…yay!

Ok. That should wrap it up. Pardon me for my boring life. I’ll be back when something awesome happens….wait! I got it…ok….flashback! {to like 3 hours ago ;-)}

I was swimming around and since I get adjusted to cold water pretty quick–I plunge myself into the water to get it over with–. Believe it or not I learned how to “swim” (if you can call it that) a few days ago. I say “swim” because I end swimming with a pool noodle and life-jacket. Look at me. The dare-devil. Whatever. I swam out really far and my finger was partially in the water when something BIT me. OMG. I freaked out and swam as fast I could to shore. Now I’m scared to go back in. Ah. Scratch that. HAUNTED FOR LIFE.

Anyways. umm yeah. ta da!

-Me<3

Except it before I totally redesigned my blog, and it was this horrible theme of bright magenta text on black. Believe me it was worse than it sounds. Me and my black. “IT’S NOT A PHASE, MOM. THIS IS WHO I AM.”

Oh, sweet, stupid, little me.

Complaining about getting bitten by some mysterious lake demon. That was actually hella scary. I screamed and floundered in the water, trying to get back to the shallow area where my feet touched the ground; it was a lot of work for the 5’2″ me because it required a bit of swimming on my part.

Of course, it isn’t like I’ve grown much since then. I’m about 5’2″ and three quarters now.

That’s not to say I haven’t grown though. For the last few years, I’ve been tall enough where I can go into a pool and have the water come up only a little above my shoulders.

But my mind has been growing and stretching relentlessly, regardless of pituitary commands.

See, in. . .roughly two months, I’ll be graduating from high school.

Three months ago, I turned 18, a LEGAL adult.

And two days ago, my dad handed me bill.

I’m like, “Um, what is this?”

My dad goes, “You need to schedule a dentist appointment to get your cavity filled.”

I just stare at my dad for a solid five seconds. “What?”

“Just call the number and ask them when they’re free to schedule you for your filling.”

I blink. “Um, what?”

Now, listen, I’m not trying to be bratty, or spoiled, or whatever. But the thing is, I’ve always lived a pretty sheltered life. My mom’s pretty doting on us. Faiz still needs her to mix the salan in his chawal, so that should give you a good idea at where our maturity level is right now.

And Faiz, he has all these plans about moving out, and maybe renting a dorm for a semester; I’m like, “Bro, you still need mum to pick your clothes out in the morning. I really don’t think flying the coop is in God’s plan for you any time soon.”

He just grumbles and goes, “Yeah, whatever.”

Last night, I was reading a book in my bed and my dad knocks on my door. I didn’t want to get out of bed, but I folded back the blanket and answered it anyway. As soon as my dad stepped in, he called Faiz in from the other side of the jack-and-jill bathroom, and proclaimed we needed to have a talk.

After making us swear not to mention it to my mom, he started talking about life insurance and what we needed to do if, God forbid, he passed away.

He said we weren’t allowed to discuss this with my mom, but he never said anything about blogging about it. My mom doesn’t read my blog anyway. No one does. Which is fine, of course. No one gets chafed about not having people invade their sacred spaces and the sanctity of all that is private. It’s like, “What? Why isn’t anyone reading my diary? How dare you all?”

Anyway, so my dad’s talking about how me and Faiz would have to contact his lawyer, and how the life insurance should cover the funeral costs, and gosh, I don’t know.

I mean, I’m only 18 years old, and my dad’s not old by any means, regardless of however much we — tease him.

My dad’ll come to the dinner table and go, “What’s old here?” because he hates wasting food and wants to finish whatever is going bad before it actually does.

Me being the comedian I am, I’ll go, “You, ha ha ha” and have a good laugh, even if no one else laughs with me.

So when my dad started having this talk with us, it really freaked me out. I went, “What, is there something you’re not telling us?” and my dad said that everything was fine, but he needed to discuss this with someone and our mom wasn’t having it.

My mom’s really emotional. Like really emotional. Like the kind of emotional where if she sees some baby being mistreated on the Investigation Discovery Network, she’ll probably start crying.

My dad says me and Faiz aren’t like that, that after a few days after he dies, we’ll get the ball rolling and start dealing with stuff, like taxes, or whatever, whereas our mom? Probably not so much.

But the thing is, he was totally wrong about that. I’m not emotional, okay? Let me make that clear right now. I’m not emotional. Out of the two of us, Faiz is the emotional one. He’s seen Logan three times and cried each time he saw it. It’s pathetic, I tell you.

But hearing my dad talking like that, it just seemed so real. I felt this pinching in the back of my throat and my eyes started to prick, and obviously, I didn’t want either of them to see me like that so I just left the room, ignoring their “Hey, where are you going??”s.

They heard me crying in the bathroom, of course. Of course they heard me. I wasn’t trying to be quiet. I didn’t want to be quiet. The thought of living in a world without my parents? That’s a world I don’t want to be a part of. They drive me crazy more often than they don’t, but family is family.

Anyway, that’s my spiel.

I’ve been AWOL, lately, I know. I’ve been working on my novel a lot. I got 40 pages (about 14,000 words) done in a month, which I was impressed with until I realized that real authors have gotten done with more words in less days.

One of my favorite authors, Karina Halle? She once posted on Instagram that she got done with 15,000 WORDS IN ONE DAY.

How??

Maybe I’m doing something wrong, I don’t know. What I do know is juggling this with school is turning into a full-time job. I mean, I even organized an independent study my fifth hour, just so I would have time to work on it.

If anyone’s curious, you can read the premise HERE.

And you can read the prologue HERE.

I’ve gotten three chapters done, but theres 20 total, and this is just the first official draft.

Being an author sucks.

Being me sucks even more.

But what’s new?

This has been 18 Year Old Me, signing off.